


Lonely Heart

by FreeTheSoul



Series: ab aeterno [2]
Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 18:27:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13816923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreeTheSoul/pseuds/FreeTheSoul
Summary: Lucifer had taught him how to hope, and so he would hope.





	Lonely Heart

**Author's Note:**

> I listened to 80's hits the whole time I wrote this.
> 
> I wanted to get out some pre-WMTSB (pre-everything, really) Sandalphon.

The experience of falling in love was, all at once, both eternally slow and painfully fast.

Like most things, it had started simply enough, yet even two thousand years of solitude would not be enough for Sandalphon to pinpoint when it had truly begun.

Had it been the soft blue of his eyes, a glimpse of which had carried life to the laboratory amidst all the painful red? Those eyes, so different from Sandalphon’s own, which had brought with them the hope for freedom and the perseverance to endure for the sake of seeing them even once more?

Had it been the pleasant smile, doting and kind? When Sandalphon stood shy and hidden behind a pillar so as not to disturb the other primarchs, yet Lucifer’s gaze found him anyways - that short flash of comforting familiarity before he returned to his conversation?

Had it been the wings, with all their glorious light and breathtaking beauty? Those ethereal feathers, the awe of which made Sandalphon’s ugly self pale in comparison; and yet, he was indiscriminately blessed to be intimate with their warmth?

It all seemed to become so very meaningless upon discovery of his purpose.

Sandalphon drifted the halls, their pristine perfection so different from him. A purpose he could never fulfill seemed more painful than no purpose at all, and the Astral’s words ate at him.

The pain was something he had never felt before, one unimaginable despite everything he had endured as an experiment. He had never experienced the despair of a crushed heart, of trampled hopes - perhaps because he had never dared to hope before meeting Lucifer.

It seemed too cruel, for the one who had given him this joy to be responsible for taking it away from him.

Sandalphon eventually became aware that he was standing in front of the door to his room, and took a deep breath to clear his mind as he stepped inside.

The door locked behind him, which was a pointless gesture. It existed only to give Sandalphon a misguided semblance of privacy, of respect, from the angels and the researchers. It did not truly exist, but the illusion of it kept him docile.

Perhaps “sane” was a more fitting word, but regardless of the purpose, it worked.

Sandalphon leaned his back against the door, exhaling. His head was throbbing, and he cast a long glance over the contents of the room.

It had been Lucifer’s idea, the modestly sized room that Sandalphon lived in now. It replaced permanent habitation in the laboratory, and despite the sterile impression it gave off, he remained grateful for the chance to escape the stench of blood he had lived in since conception. Scattered here and there were piles of books - there was rarely anything else to do when he was never given a role to fill - but it did little to make the room feel lived in.

Sandalphon had always viewed it with slight disdain for keeping him apart from Lucifer, but he felt a twinge of regret as he pondered how much longer he would even be allowed to live here before he was gotten rid of.

Exhaustion hit him like a wave, and he walked over to his bed to fall into it. Stretching out his arms and running them across the top of the sheets, he closed his eyes.

He felt as though he was almost out of time, approaching a limit he had never been aware of. 

No, that was wrong; there had to be a way for him to extend his existence, to show Lucifer that he had value. It seemed almost laughable, coming from someone whose life was as pointless as his, but he had to try.

But was that really what he wanted?

Deep in his heart, a selfish voice made itself heard. He wanted to be useful, but no, becoming indispensable was not his ideal. His desire was far more simple: to remain beside his beloved. The entire universe could mock him, hate him, abuse him, if it just allowed him to stay in Lucifer’s light. He, in his desperation, would even return to the laboratory’s unending torture if it meant he would not be torn away from Lucifer.

He did not understand what he had done wrong.

All he had ever wanted was to love and be loved.  
  


Sandalphon did not see Lucifer again for several days, only leaving his room if absolutely necessary. It was lonely, however, and he was eventually drawn out by the desire for company.

As expected, he found Lucifer standing alone watching the clouds in one of the more secluded areas: a wide plateau that faced the expanse of pale blue sky. The angels, out of respect for his privacy, rarely strayed to this region. Sandalphon, who did not feel this same restraint, found it rather convenient.

The sun’s rise and set seemed to be a favorite of Lucifer’s, however Sandalphon had never bothered him to ask why. Perhaps another time, he would.

Lucifer noticed Sandalphon’s approach before he could speak, a welcoming smile tugging faintly at his lips as he turned in greeting. 

“Sandalphon. I was surprised not to see you for such a long time. Have there been any problems I was uninformed of?”

It was at times difficult to distinguish whether Lucifer felt personal concern or was simply polite, but Sandalphon chose to perceive it as the former.

His smile in response was weak. “No, everything’s been fine.”

The things he wanted to say weighed on his heart, but he remained silent as he moved to the ledge. As Lucifer watched curiously, he sat down carefully on the rough stone and stared out into the distance.

Lucifer eventually hummed in response, settling down beside Sandalphon and allowing their shoulders to touch.

For a long while, the two of them sat and said nothing.

Sandalphon’s voice was quiet when it broke the silence. “Lucifer…” 

Lucifer tilted his head, “Is something on your mind?”

When no response came, Lucifer prompted him once more. “You know that I am always fond of hearing your thoughts--”

“I love you.”

He blurted it out so suddenly that he cut off Lucifer, but for once, Sandalphon didn’t care. His heart was beating so hard he was certain Lucifer could hear it, and he refused to look anywhere but down into the pale orange clouds. If he was going to be rejected, he may as well get it over with before being tossed away.

A hand reached out to cup his cheek, directing him to face the primarch. Sandalphon’s breath caught in his throat, the back of his neck warmed by embarrassment.

Lucifer smiled, his eyes as gentle as his lips.

“I, too, love you.”

Perhaps feeling he had been too impersonal, Lucifer added after a pause: “You hold great importance in my heart, Sandalphon.”

Sandalphon was stunned into silence by the response, his eyes beginning to water. Raising his own hand, he intertwined his fingers with Lucifer’s against his cheek.

Sandalphon turned back to the dazzling sky, quiet as he lowered their hands to rest upon his lap. A thumb gently stroked the back of his hand as he nuzzled against Lucifer’s shoulder, and Sandalphon allowed himself to be wrapped in the sun-like warmth of the primarch’s wings.

If the two of them could sit there together, chastely intimate, for a thousand years…

It did not take very long for his consciousness to drift.  
  


Moments such as these developed into habit, as Lucifer seemed to understand that Sandalphon craved physical intimacy. It did not go further than quiet embraces and muted conversations, but it was beyond anything that Sandalphon had ever expected. While he did crave more - a kiss, perhaps - it had always seemed too imprudent. Once, the opportunity had presented itself as the two of them watched the sun break at dawn, but an angel’s interruption had forced Sandalphon to untangle their limbs and distance himself.

His sole regret was that he could not invite Lucifer into his room; it had always seemed such a shameful request. Still…

The nights when the shadows of existential dread crept into his thoughts, Sandalphon would squeeze a pillow close to his chest and fantasize to fill the hole in his heart. He craved the gentle comfort of Lucifer’s arms, imagining what it must feel like to be held from behind. Lucifer must have warm breath, he thought, and it would surely feel pleasant against the back of his neck.

It seemed, to him, that these thoughts were the only ones that brought peaceful sleep anymore.  
  


One day, Sandalphon wandered the halls.

His back between the shoulder blades was sore, which was not an experience he was unfamiliar with. It brought with it a feeling of worthlessness that itched at his skin, and it was one of few times he would leave his room during broad daylight of his own accord, because even condescending looks from the angels was better than being alone with his own thoughts.

Ironically, it was now when he felt the most drawn to Lucifer, despite his deep-seated jealousy of the angels. Bitterness seemed an impossible emotion to feel towards Lucifer - instead, he found comfort in the acceptance he received from someone with so much power, so much value.

As he approached a corner, a familiar voice became faintly audible. Not looking to attract any attention to himself, he slowed his pace and hoped the sound of his heels hadn’t already given him away. Quietly, he crept behind a pillar that would allow him to eavesdrop.

“What did you want to talk about, my dear Lucifer?”

Hearing the Astral say Lucifer’s name prompted Sandalphon to shudder in disgust, but he did not move from where he was hidden.

Lucifer remained quiet for a long moment, and the Astral allowed him to ponder. 

“What… is love?”

Sandalphon felt his stomach plummet.   


Surely, he must’ve misheard. It was a question that didn’t make sense - surely, surely...

“Love?” The Astral seemed to shift as he replied, the tone of his voice filling Sandalphon’s veins with ice.

“Yes. I have seen it in the mortals I watch, and Sandalphon has seemed quite taken with the concept as of late. Certainly, I feel love for all of creation as its guardian. However…” Lucifer paused once more in thought, choosing his words carefully, “I feel I lack a full understanding.”

The ground was crumbling beneath Sandalphon’s feet, and he sunk to the floor. His hands reached up shakily to pull his hood down further, hoping he could simply disappear into it.

The Astral raised a hand to his own face, a finger tapping his cheek. “What a peculiar question to hear from you. I suppose I never thought to teach you that; it is an unnecessary complication to life, one that is better left to satisfy those with weak hearts and frail minds.”

Sandalphon felt the urge to vomit, but the Astral continued undeterred.

“While I had previously left it as your decision whether or not Sandalphon was worth keeping, I refuse to allow him to taint your development. I will arrange for disposal at the soonest opportunity--”

The air crackled threateningly with overwhelming seraphic energy, and the Astral stopped himself in response to Lucifer’s apparent disagreement.

A muffled scuffling sound disrupted their conversation before it could continue, and while Lucifer did not see its source when he turned, a part of him already seemed to know. As if a switch had been flipped, the electricity in the air disappeared to be replaced with the cool breeze.

Lucifer did not turn back to the Astral when he broke the silence. “...We shall continue this conversation at a later time.”

The Astral tutted quietly.  
  


Sandalphon rushed through the hallways, head down against the disapproving glances from the lesser angels. His tights had torn at the knee when he’d tripped and fell in his rush to leave, but the pain of the scrape was dull against the ache in his head.

His mind was full of rushing, incoherent thoughts. There was one thing that drove him as he moved: He had to get as far away as possible from that conversation. 

Of course, he was completely mistaken in what he’d just heard. It would just take a little bit of convincing to get himself to believe that.

He had nowhere else to go than his room. Alone was the only place he would ever be able to find solace, find comfort, find safety--

His legs gave out under him the instant the door closed, his arms resting limp against the floor. As he felt himself begin to shiver, he dipped his head down and gripped his arms tight around his legs.

He wanted to disappear.  
  


He was not sure how long he remained there with his head tucked inwards, but he felt a twinge of disappointment when he opened his eyes and realized that he was not in his bed, and it had not all been a nightmare.

The words he’d heard had been true, and even Sandalphon could not deny it. He had felt, deep down, that something was wrong. When he had made his advances, when he had pushed for intimacy, he had seen the faint glimmer of uncertainty in Lucifer’s eyes - but he, in his blind desperation, had been so willing to ignore it in favor of the self-serving delusion he had built their relationship upon.

Calling it a relationship felt wrong. Truthfully, there had never been one between them.

It was truly aggravating; he had no other way to describe it. Why had he been betrayed by the only person he trusted, the only person he would ever trust?

Sandalphon felt his anger build, and did not quell it. He felt as if he had uncovered a new feeling, this deep hatred that bubbled in the pit of his stomach. He had never quite felt anger on that level - perhaps the closest had been a deep despairing sadness, but the impression that he was incapable had formerly stopped it from developing any further.

It was exhilarating.

In a burst of sudden energy, he stood up quickly and moved to snatch a pillow off his bed - there was an idea in his mind that he did not want to lose.

The cover of it was thick, but he was undeterred in his excitement to take advantage of this new emotion. Sandalphon’s first attempt at tearing it open was fruitless, but it only built his frustration further. There were no sharp objects allowed in his room - he would have to do this by himself.

Drunk off the sensation of unchecked hatred, he ignored the pain as he dug his nails in deeper and, finally, ripped it open. His theory had been proven correct, and he grinned as the first feathers, small and downy, spilled out. Still dissatisfied, he continued energetically to rip apart the seams until the case was mostly empty. Perhaps this was what it would feel like to pluck feathers, to tear the wings off of one of the angels who had always mocked him for his inferiority--

Sandalphon felt a chill, and his grip went limp. Almost stumbling, he stepped backwards, eyes widening as he stared at what he had done.

What had he been thinking?

His own thoughts became terrifying even to him, and he brought a hand to his mouth against the sudden nausea that gripped him. It was all he could do to stop himself from throwing up as he watched the feathers float through the air.

It was only a pillow - inconsequential, really - but he felt as if he had committed some unspeakable sin by succumbing to that festering hatred. 

Backing up into the bed, he sat down listlessly on the edge and stared blankly at the state of his room.  
  


A sharp knock on the door woke him from his trance, startling him. Instinctively, he dove into the bed in a futile attempt to hide from whoever was standing there.

“Are you in here, Sandalphon?”

The sound of Lucifer’s voice made Sandalphon’s stomach twist. There was nothing he could do to clean up the room, and despite his misgivings about lying, he remained silent. He was certain that Lucifer knew he was in there, but it was the mentality of a guilty child that made him try to avoid his punishment.

There was nothing that stopped Lucifer from opening the door himself; any barrier was paper-thin against one with so much power, and Sandalphon had his doubts that the lock was even real in the first place. He watched the door carefully for when it would open and he would be forced to face his shame, the feathers strewn across the room filling him with a hot guilt.

_ But why do you feel guilty? _ the voice inside him, that very dangerous voice, whispered the unanswerable question.  _ Is it not his fault, for not understanding, yet pretending to anyways? Is it not his fault that, despite all his benevolence, he is hurting you? _

Burying his face deep into the bed, he wished for these thoughts to go away.

The door did not open. A gentle  _ click  _ of shoes against granite faded away, as did the energy that resonated from Lucifer’s very being. The air stilled, filled with an oppressive nothingness.

Loneliness gnawed at Sandalphon’s soul.

_ Why did Lucifer leave you alone? _

The voice had returned, the one that spoke the words of his heart.

_ Why do you not deserve his comfort?  _

It hurt.

Sandalphon curled into the bed, gripping the sheets until his knuckles went white, until it was so painful he was forced to relax his hold. His body shook, uncontrollable shivers running through his spine as the tears he’d so desperately held back dampened the sheets, snot and saliva running down his face.

He wailed, until all he could do was choke on his own spit and convulse soundlessly against the bed, eyes squeezed tight and teeth gritted to dull the pain of reality.  
  


Sandalphon did not remember when his mind had slipped into a deep, dreamless nothing, but it was pitch black when he opened his eyes. They felt puffy and sore, and he supposed his crying had continued after blacking out. Rubbing his face with both hands, he forced his heavy body to get up.

A handful of down feathers were drifting in the air he had disturbed, and he stared at them wordlessly.

His back was starting to feel sore again.  
  


The night air was chilling, but Sandalphon was too numb to feel it. He’d drifted through the empty halls until he came across a ledge, his legs now hanging over the great abyss of clouds below.

There was a small hole in the clouds far beneath him, and Sandalphon felt mesmerized by the deep darkness hidden below. Absently, as he picked at the rip in his tights, he wondered what would happen if he slipped. Perhaps, a strong gust of wind would be all it took...

Someone was approaching, a heavenly voice interrupting the sound of the wind.

“Sandalphon.”

Dragging himself away from the temptation of darkness, Sandalphon carefully pulled his legs in and stood up. Putting on his best smile was a slip back into familiarity, and he braced himself for his punishment as he turned to face the owner of the voice.

“Yes, Lucifer?”

If the primarch noticed anything different, he did not make it clear. He simply approached, his energy making the air shiver. The feeling on Sandalphon’s skin was indescribable, yet it had always left the impression that Lucifer lacked the capability to articulate his thoughts in a satisfactory way.

Neither of them said anything, but the smile on Sandalphon’s face did not falter against Lucifer’s pensive scrutiny. As Lucifer raised his hand, however, Sandalphon could not stop his expression from breaking into a flinch.

A slap was more what he’d come to expect from the Astral than from Lucifer, but perhaps the two were more similar than Sandalphon had hoped. 

To his surprise, the pain did not come; instead, Lucifer’s palm caressed his cheek, sliding from skin to tousled hair. Sandalphon stared breathlessly as he felt his hair being tucked loosely behind his ear. Maybe, the two of them could still--

His hopes were dashed when he saw the single, small feather held in Lucifer’s hand as it withdrew.

Its white purity seemed almost blinding against the night. As the wind whisked it away into the sky, Lucifer’s blue gaze was unreadable.

Sandalphon watched the feather fall through the hole in the clouds.

**Author's Note:**

> For clarification, it was not my intent to paint Lucifer in a poor light. It simply seemed like a realistic outcome of their relationship, and I felt like WMTSB left room for something more that could have led Sandalphon to be who he became.
> 
> EDIT: I wrote/posted this before WMTSB2, and was pleasantly surprised that the fic still held up. Seeing them use the "to love and be loved" line in the event itself was a shock. Oh, Sandalphon...
> 
> I find it rude when strangers comment criticism (constructive or not) unprompted, so please don't! I write fics for my own entertainment.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
